


Porny Ficlets

by mostlyharmless



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Beach Sex, Bloodplay, Body Dysphoria, Bondage, Clothed Sex, Dubious Consent, F/M, Fingerfucking, Fluff, Forced Orgasm, Gender Dysphoria, Humiliation, Knifeplay, M/M, Multi, Oral Fixation, Painplay, Self-cest, Shota, Threesome - F/M/M, Threesome - M/M/Other, Trans Character, Underage Character, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-17
Updated: 2012-03-17
Packaged: 2017-11-02 01:57:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/363741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mostlyharmless/pseuds/mostlyharmless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bunch of porny ficlets written for various people or memes. Probably really bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Restoration (Sora/Namine)

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Sora/Namine, fluffy first time sex; preferably not too AU? bonus points if it's on the beach/in the waves of Destiny Islands (and they're not caught despite that~)

"-Uh," stuttered Namine, bright blue sky shutting out as her eyes squeezed closed. "S-Sora, we can't-here, it's-nnh." The words scattered in her brain like the the fine sand though her fingers.

Sora looked up, impish grin hovering right above her left nipple. Face glowing, Namine tugged at the white dress around her middle, streaking it with wet sand. "Someone might see," she whispered, as Sora captured her nimble fingers in his own calloused ones, bringing them to his face.

"No, they won't," he said, and she felt the grin curve against her palm. "We have the island all to ourselves today. Remember? We planned it aaaaall out." She inhaled, and his eyes dropped to her snowy white breasts as they heaved, exposed beneath him.

She noticed, flushing deepening. "Sora..."

"You don't want to do this?" he asked, hands dutifully retreating to her arms.

"No, I... I do. Please..." She squeezed her eyes shut again, this time against the thoughts crowding her head.  _Please don't get frustrated with me. I wish I was stronger._

Sora grinned again. "Pleeeease? Please what, Namine?"

"Please..."

Willing the blush out of her cheeks, she took his large hand from where it was stroking her upper arm, and placed it over her breast. Watching her face carefully, he dragged a thumb over her nipple, and she sucked in a breath, back arching slightly. "I love the way you look, like this," he whispered, almost confidentially, eyes round.

She couldn't help the smile that worked its way onto her lips as she drew his face towards hers for a kiss.

Kissing was nice, she liked the warm pull and slide of his mouth on hers, but she liked it when his mouth slid lower, down her throat, and oh, she liked-

Squeaking as he took her nipple in his mouth again, she ran her hands helplessly down his back, sand trailing from her fingertips, watching the sky disappear as her eyes slid shut again.

They flew open when she felt the rough pads of his fingers rub a circle against her inner thigh, and she squished her legs together instinctively. "Ack," Sora laughed against her chest, then looked up sheepishly. "Uh, I'm sorry! I, um, I got carried away-"

"No," Namine laughed, embarrassed herself. "No, it's okay, it's..."

Exhaling completely, she let her legs fall open again. Sora muffled a deep noise against her collarbone, and she shivered.

His hand began stroking those tiny circles again, experimental. Up and down her thighs, around her hipbones, breath catching again, and again... just above her panties, and her hips rolled up of their own accord. She felt Sora exhale hotly against her shoulder. "Your heart is going like crazy," he informed her, rubbing there slowly, and she could hear the tinge of wonder in his voice.

"I'm s-sorry," she stuttered, only half realising that made no sense, hips straining. "I, just, please, Sora, please..."

She felt his fingertips slip just under the elastic of her panties, a high-pitched noise escaping her as his fingers moved just over-hips rolled up again, needing that pressure, more pressure-back arching, she needed, she  _needed_...

And Sora carefully pressed down between the folds, being so gentle as she forced her hips to stop. They both stilled there. Namine blew out a breathy nervous giggle, and gripped his forearm.

Holding onto his arm made her feel more secure as he slowly, gently explored her body, learning what made her twitch, what made her squeak, what made her toes curl in the sand...

It must have been the tide coming in that was wetting her feet, but she could hardly care, could hardly think, with those long, sturdy fingers making shallow thrusts deep inside her, a long, low moan leaking out of her open mouth.

A shaky kiss was pressed to her cheek, she turned into it, meeting the clumsy, distracted movments of his lips. So good, it felt so good, too good, body singing, she couldn't think, couldn't... can't...

"Huh?" she half heard Sora say, mouth inches from hers as he watched her face.

"Can't... I can't..."

It was too much, too good, too,  _too..._

Roxas shot up in bed, legs tangling in sweaty blankets. He grimaced as he realised he was rock hard, but he didn't realise he was wiping his fingers absently against the sheets.

She put her crayon down, bathed in the blue light of monitors.


	2. Rain (Riku/Sora)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Sora/Riku, sex in the rain. Your choice of location.

Riku hated the rain. It made him feel lethargic and inclined to depressing thoughts. Not to mention, it made his jeans go all heavy and soggy. He hitched up his jeans for the billionth time, pushing his darkened hair out of his eyes.

Sora loved the rain. All that energy pouring from the sky; it made him go a little wild, tearing up and down the beach under the grey sky, the ocean swelling.

Racing up to Riku, that look in his eyes, wrapping lean arms around him, 'come on'.

It was Sora who taught Riku to love the rain, to see how beautiful it could be.

How tanned muscles shone perfect when wet, how it clung to Sora's eyelashes. How it tasted in Sora's mouth.

How it washed away the sand (the darkness), lending power as it pounded against the rocks and their bodies, limbs sliding and grasping.

How when, tangled together, dry and warm by a fire in the cave, the rain lashing against the outside world sealed them in, cocooned them, safe and together. Pressing lazy kisses, protected by the earth and stone.

How dazzling and clean it made the dawn.


	3. Electric Feel (Larxene/Axel/Roxas)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: pairing: larxene/axel/roxas. kink: heavy bondage and bloodplay. 
> 
> (Please take that prompt as a warning for those things!!)

"Like this?" came Roxas' voice, hesitant, and Larxene's laughter crackled through the charged air.

"He can take more," she said, and Axel squeezed his eyes shut against the blindfold and tried to stop the high-pitched whine building in his aching throat as two of Roxas' fingers pulled out of him, and three pushed back inside.

His shoulders were starting to ache from the bad angle, wrists strapped together and trapped underneath his back, head forced backwards. Tacky with sweat.

Something slithered softly against his cheek—Larxene's hair?—and he shuddered. He could feel her grin, her breath ghosting softly against his cheekbone. "You heard me, Axel. You like it, don't you?"

No, thought Axel. He didn't. Axel liked having all the cards up his sleeve, Axel liked being the one with the knowing eyes and the threat in his smile. Except.

Except for at times like this, the secret times with Larxene and her leathers, when he was tied up and unable to move, unable to scheme, unable to think. Only option to just let go.

Roxas was moving his fingers experimentally, not reaching where Axel needed it most, and his body strained; Roxas' inexperienced missing was just as bad as deliberate teasing.

"Now, now," said Larxene, and she gripped Axel's hip tight enough to bruise. That time a whine did escape, as Roxas' wriggling inside him sent a shiver of sparks down his spine, Larxene's fingers pressing rhythmically into the bruises until his cock was dripping on his stomach and his body was sheened in sweat.

There was a shuffling and pressing around him as someone moved. Long, slim fingers pressed into his mouth, he curled his tongue around them. Tasted like girl. Larxene must be enjoying this. "Good boy," she purred, sound going straight to his groin and fuck he wasn't gonna last.

Then the fingers inside him twisted in painful experimental failure, and he bit down on Larxene's fingers. She hissed poisonously, and suddenly his face seared with a stinging sharp pain.

He gasped and panted with blood on his tongue, nerves tingling in shock, half expecting more pain, unable to move, unable to even see where it might come from. He could almost feel a heart hammering in his chest. Almost feel.

"I think," she said, and he could imagine the broken-glass glitter in her eye, "you need to be punished for that."

Then there was something sharp pressing into his chest, and fuck fuck fuck. Lines of firebrand peeling apart his skin, stars and static jumping in front of his eyes, blood rushing in ears so loud it drowned out everything.

The fingers pulled out and he choked on a moan. He wouldn't beg. Wouldn't say don't stop. The pad of Larxene's thumb was smearing the cut and his entire body was an ache, a ball of piercing throbbing ache in the darkness.

And then there was a little wet tongue on his balls, a soft nervous kiss on the skin of his stomach, and he jolted, the sounds coming from his mouth were just a little more broken, just a little more desperate.

"Fuck me," he managed, throat raw, and he imagined Roxas' curt little nod, his professional little movements as he shifted into place. Larxene giggled and sliced shallow strokes over his left pectoral.

/

Roxas slid in

\

Stretched, swollen, and his chest burned burned burned

l

A needy liquid sound from Roxas.

l

Staccato,

l

Axel fell apart.


	4. Endurance (Axel/Roxas)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Roxas & Axel - Axel as trans. Watching themselves having sex in a full-body mirror & sadomasochism.  
> (warning for gender and body dysphoria)

Axel shudders again as Roxas' mouth trails fire between his breasts, lips gazing up to tease a nipple. The thought makes bile rise in his throat, but he threads his fingers in Roxas' hair and murmurs something encouraging anyway, eyes slipping shut.

Roxas' fingers are sliding between Axel's legs, rubbing slow and reassuring. He twinges with wrongwrongwrong, forcing his body to relax, forcing his hands to stop trembling. Roxas presses a kiss to his tattooed cheek, blue eyes fixed on the huge mirror facing the bed, watching their bodies twine. He knows he loves his long legs, his wide hips, his fiery hair.

But when Axel follows his gaze, the image almost makes him sick. He feels so disconnected from his body, like the terrifying folds between his legs aren't really his, like those protrusions on his chest don't belong to him. For so long he's bound them tight, hid his traitorous body in baggy clothing, and there it is reflected at him, naked and exposed and nothing like how he feels inside.

Roxas looks up at him, flushing, apologetic. He tries so hard to make it good for 'his girl'; he's not even touching himself right now. Axel tries to smooth the strain from his smile. He can't tell Roxas the truth. He doesn't need to know.

Axel takes Roxas' wrist, pulls it away, slicks his own trembling fingers as best he can.

He sits up now, pulling Roxas into his lap, so his beautiful body hides most of Axel's in the reflection. He wraps long fingers around his cock, both their eyes now trained on their copies in the glass.

Axel strokes him, watches the muscles in his stomach tighten, feels heat rolling low in his own. He jerks faster, tasting the salt on Roxas' skin, listening to his laboured breathing, half-pretending he's doing this to himself, ashamed, aroused. Those two feelings never seem to be apart, for him.

One day he'll have someone cut him up, patch him together and make a skin that fits, and then maybe Roxas won't want to touch him at all, any more. So he takes these moments, treasures them, tries to make this pain and discomfort into pleasure. Crystallise the memory of Roxas' flushed face, golden hair dark with sweat, his pupils blown and the pale column of his throat bared as he comes. Axel can't take his eyes off Roxas' cock in the mirror, emptying itself, shameful, arousing.

Roxas nuzzles Axel's jaw with his head, presses kisses there. "Sorry, I—next time. Next time, I promise."


	5. Self-harm (Org!Roxas/TWTN!Roxas/Antiform)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: organization 13!Roxas/twilight town Roxas (work that however you want. au, in Sora's subconscious somehow, whatever. i just think it'd be sweet to see them as separate characters)  
> kink is mind games, and bondage. i'm thinking non-con but that can be up to the anon.
> 
> (warning for dubcon)

 

Whoever said they were like two sides of a coin was naive. There were many, many sides to them.

The sunkissed kid with the heart of a hero. The pale kid with hollow eyes. A writhing, twitching darkness in the shape of a boy. A forgotten memory in the shape of a girl. The imprint of a pure heart that had once taken refuge within their warm chest, and—the innocent boy that the ghost of that imprint had shaped for herself.

Within a crystalline heart, they exist as one, as many, like the facets of a diamond, like all the colours that make up light.

This is where Roxas wakes up.

Still tasting the sea breeze, the sunlight that had been sparkling in Naminé's eyes still dances as black dots in his vision. There's an aching happiness in his chest.

_Together, every day. Just like we promised. And, I… finally got to go to the beach…_

"Huh."

The derisive sound vibrates through Roxas' whole body, leaving him dazed and disconnected, flat on his back against a huge stained glass window.

_"I_ _never got to go to the beach…"_

Roxas turns his head, and comes face to face with glowing yellow eyes. He yelps, jerking back, as a creature claws over him, sniffing at his throat.

"Idiot," comes the voice again, and Roxas realises it's  _his_ _own_ voice, and the creature pushes a cold nose into his neck, against his fluttering pulse.  _"It can't hurt you. Not as we are now."_

Panting in fear, Roxas thrashes wildly, clawing as the cool sinuous form presses close, convulsing in silence.

It's then, pinned to the floor, voice stuck in his throat, that he sees the pale face above him, glowing in the dark. It's almost like looking into a mirror, but all colour is bleached from his skin, and his familiar jeans are replaced with sleek black leather.

"You… I… remember…"

His head fills with static.

**—?.=XIII.x^-**

"No, you don't. If you remembered, you'd be me."

The boy's face is icy, a white circle floating closer, the rest of his body blending into the surrounding darkness.

**—/the*colours%that^make(up)13light—**

"I made promises, too, you know," he whispers, and suddenly Roxas feels numb, the pearly stained glass beneath him suddenly streaking with

**—the#00111000one"that;reaches the &furthest+is8—**

red, and there's a burning sensation in Roxas' throat; he gasps. XIII kneels beside his face, watching impassively. The yellow eyes of the anti-form flick between the two.

_I hate you so much._

XIII's eyes narrow, and now Roxas isn't sure which one of them said it.

Roxas struggles harder, as the cold eyes watch him. "…Are you going to kill me?" he continues, feeling the fear bite back up through the haze. "Because I'm not going to just lie here and take it!"

"You already killed me," is the quiet answer, and Roxas' struggles cease, and tears sting the back of his eyelids.

"I didn't ask for this," he chokes, and suddenly there's a gloved hand on his face. The touch sends strange sensations zinging through him, like stroking an exposed nerve.

 _Naminé,_ Roxas thinks desperately.

The anti-form, still draped over him, absorbs his shudder with its elastic body, pressing him tighter into the glass. Roxas' pinned hand claws uselessly at the floor, as XIII's face draws closer, breath ghosting over his face, smelling of nothing.

"Watching you dance on the ends of her chains. It makes me sick."

XIII rubs his cheek against the anti-form's shoulder, and it judders, forcing Roxas over onto his stomach, melting into his back. Its unbreathing face is just over his shoulder.

The anti-form bunches its way up his back; Roxas isn't quite sure it's even human-shaped anymore.

The tip of something cold and metal is pressing into his lower back. Roxas cries out, and something dark and slimy forces its way past his lips, the taste of ink overpowering.

Is this really what he used to be like...?

He can feel the waves of derision rolling right through his skin, feel the unfathomable eyes boring into the back of his head. The cold metal drags down sharp as a razor, and cold air hits him, raising goosebumps on his flesh. Roxas whimpers around the thing in his mouth, something like  _stop_ , or maybe  _why._

"I'm not you," comes his answer, from a very strange place behind him, and then suddenly he's bent double, the anti-form tightening its hold around his back, thighs, head forced down.

He can't move at all, and his back is starting to ache, when he feels XIII press a cold kiss to his spine, sending more strange shivers straight to his core.

Then there's something pressing against—oh holy fuck, what—and Roxas makes an outraged sound, muffled by the dark sinuous thing suddenly swelling in his mouth, vision blurring over with hot angry tears as it probes that tight ring of muscle.

"And you might not be me anymore, but we share a heart. I feel everything you feel. I know what we want deep down."

What Roxas feels is confused. A second hand, oily with what must be the darkness rolling out of the anti-form, is creeping under his spread thighs, caressing him lightly, testing. His body starts to react of its own accord, fingers flexing against the glass. The strange raw feeling that XIII's touches induce are magnified a thousand times, and the involuntary noise that escapes him is far from angry, or pained.

It's then, as one hand starts to move up and down his shaft, that a finger of the other pushes past the ring of muscle and inside. Someone moans, and he's sure it wasn't the anti-form, but not sure if it was himself.

Himself...

"And I know a lot about 'deep down'. But you won't ignore me any more."

XIII pushes another oily finger in, and then another. It's uncomfortable and weird, but—yes, there—the anti-form loosening its hold a little, pushing him onto elbows and knees, the thing in his mouth starts thrusting past his swollen lips, slowly, the anti-form holding his head in place. The hand on his cock pumping harder, better access.

Touching him in all the best places, knowing his body like… like…

It's too much; Roxas' hips snap back and forth, and then he's fucking himself on XIII's fingers, hitting that spot over and over, the other boy completely still, just listening to the strangled sounds coming from his throat.

Too much, too much, and he comes, feeling it rip through the whole space, blinding.

Suddenly, he's on his back again, and the thing in his mouth draws out, more saliva rolling down his chin, the taste of ink suddenly even worse. He gags, jaw aching, skin still shivering like it's been ripped back and his nerves are all exposed.

XIII's fingers draw out, too, and he feels empty, sick. He hears zippers coming undone, squeezes his eyes shut.

And.

"He died," comes the harsh grunt.

XIII is kneeling there, leather peeled back to reveal an identical pale body. His white fingers are working on himself, his blue eyes glassy, fixed on Roxas' flushed face.

"I wasn't there. Because of you."

He comes all over his own hands, over Roxas, but Roxas doesn't mind.

XIII crawls over him, flopping down painfully on one arm, wrenching his shoulder a little. "You won't repress me anymore." The anti-form slides down the other side, hands grasping and feathering erratically over Roxas' stomach, ribs.

Sweat sticking his skin to the glass, Roxas thinks he can hear an ocean lapping against the pillar, far below them, imagines it sparkling pink with the residual glow of a princess' heart.

It soothes him, and he feels himself slipping back into a dreamless void.


	6. Sucking Pole (Axel/Roxas)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A stupid aside for tragicallycanadian's discontinued 'The Other 358 Days' project.
> 
> Warning for... uh... everything that would be wrong with Axel taking advantage of Roxas in his zombie first week.

Roxas' hand dropped back to his thigh, ice cream dangling precariously between his forefinger and thumb.

"Jeez! You gotta hold it properly," Axel grumbled, grabbing the kid's hand before he could drop the thing over the edge of the clocktower and forcing his fingers to curl properly around the stick.

Axel shivered involuntarily. There was something weird about the way the kid stared, like he was trying to focus but it was all a little too much to handle. Couldn't really blame the kid; Axel knew he was smoking hot and everything.

"Come on, Roxas. You did it before, yeah? Man. Maybe it's too much of an ask, getting you to learn walking and eating in one day," Axel said, slightly irritated. "Just bring it up to your mouth. We're not going until you finish it."

But, the kid just stared at him. Axel lifted Roxas' hand, bringing the ice cream to his closed mouth. "Come on, like this—"

And then the little blond looked at him with those unfocussed eyes and opened that wet mouth sort of expectantly and Axel felt his whole body flush. Shit.

T-that wasn't hot at all, this was a new kid, Axel didn't know anything about him. In fact all he did know was that he looked more like a baby angel than something begging to be stuffed with cock. Fuck fuck fuck.

He blew a shuddering breath, and gently rubbed the blue ice against the kid's bottom lip, willing the lax fingers under his to just hold on properly and take the damn thing.

No such luck. His lips came down around the tip of the ice cream, and Axel found himself in the terrifyingly awkward position of  _feeding_  him.

Well, frozen there hanging onto the icy treat while the kid sucked tentatively at it, at least. He could feel the stick between his fingers jolt ever so slightly as the Roxas's tongue explored the foreign object in his mouth, and every millimetre that slipped past the tight wet lips made heat coil tighter and tighter in Axel's belly.

Why couldn't he look away?

Fuck.

He drew it back a little, to see if it would make the kid grab at it himself. Roxas instinctively leaned towards the ice cream again, blue stained tongue peeking out to curl around it, and Axel snapped like that string of blue saliva. He thrust the ice cream back into Roxas' mouth a little roughly—the boy's eyelids fluttering in surprise, hands clenching into little fists—and then again more slowly, in experimental awe.

Roxas sucked at the ice as Axel pushed it in and out once more. It was a little too wide for the kid's small mouth, and it stretched his lips a little, mouth becoming obscenely wet with syrupy saliva and melted cream.

The ice cream began to break apart as it moved in and out, a chunk sliding down Roxas' chin and splattering down his white jacket, landing with a soft 'plish' on his wrist.

Axel bit back a groan, and tried to ignore the unthinkable building urge to palm himself as he watched the kid finish the ice cream, chasing every last drop with his tongue.  _It's just a fucking ice cream. This is just a fucking recruit. I'm just making him finish it._

Blue spots stained the white front of Roxas' weird version of a birthday-suit, but Axel knew that they wouldn't be needed for much longer anyway. That little jacket wasn't going to be much protection against the darkness.

He wiped the kid's face with the hand that wasn't already streaked with sugary juice, realised what he was doing, and told himself to get a fucking grip. It was the ice cream that did this to him, he decided. Nobodies react on memories, and so many of his were tied to this peculiar treat.

A lifetime ago, he and Isa had pressed sticky blue mouths together under the eternal dawn sky of Radiant Garden, and if this was as close as he could get to tasting that happiness again, he'd eat ice cream every day.


	7. To the Wall (Axel/Saix)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another stupid porn aside written for tragicallycanadian's discontinued project.
> 
> Axel/Saix

Axel closed his eyes lazily against Saïx's hissed words, but his skin prickled at the sensation of the other Nobody so close by. Restlessness began to expand inside his chest, and he tapped his fingers against his stomach.

He wanted to be moving, dancing, gesturing, fighting, something. Saïx was still there against the wall. Axel's lips twitched.

"Do I get a reward for my job well done?" he asked, sliding sinuously up and off the bed. He'd already traded his leather ensemble for the soft black pants he usually slept in, exposing his lithe form.

Saïx gave him a heavy-lidded look, flicker of interest underpainting his eternally displeased expression. "I doubt you had to work very hard."

A glittering grin. "You want me to work for it?" Axel stepped closer, placing bare feet between Saïx's black boots, and ran a hand brazenly down that leather-clad chest.

There was a low sound from Saïx, something like a laugh, as a cold nose was pushed against the hot skin at Axel's neck.

"Yeah," breathed Axel, tilting his head back, heat sliding down his spine. Saïx covered the hand on his chest with one of his own, capturing Axel's other with his free hand as he mouthed at his pulse.

You must need this like I need it, thought Axel, letting Saïx's large hands close around his wrists, pinning them between their chests. Well, prove it to me.

Saix moved until they were almost touching, forehead-to-scarred-forehead, and his golden eyes pierced Axel for a moment before he pressed their mouths together none too softly. Axel teased back with his teeth and tongue even as he let Saïx drag him against his side, push him against the wall. The rush of adrenaline was making his head spin, his skin heating up almost painfully. He wondered whether that counted as a feeling. Proof, perhaps.

Saïx's mouth was hot and insistent, and Axel moulded himself to that hard body as it crushed him against the wall, breaking his hands free to drag them down Saïx's back. Saïx made a displeased noise into Axel's mouth, breaking apart the kiss as he grabbed Axel's thin wrists and pinned them to the wall above his head.

Axel knew that Saïx understood how to submit, understood the very different kind of power it brought. Axel knew it too, relished in it sometimes. And Lea had never minded submitting to Isa, because he knew Isa understood, he could let go and Isa wouldn't think any less of him—and Saïx, Saïx was the same. Of course he was. Axel's mind flashed to the subtle line of Saïx' shoulders as he followed Xemnas through the white halls, and suddenly he wanted.

Not breaking his gaze, he ground his hips into Saïx's slow and hard, and was rewarded with another kiss, rough against his lips, nipping at his jaw, tongue on his neck, demanding, insistent. He wanted Saïx to want him to let go, wanted Saïx to want to see him lose it.  Wanted Saïx to force him. To make him--

Saïx grazed his teeth sharply over Axel's shoulder and thrust his hips, a low sound escaping from Axel's parted lips. He might have loved it. Loved the sharp spike of pain, like it connected him to what was real. Loved being held down, like he was wanted there. Like it could fill up the gaping-- Make him _feel_ \--

Desperate, he twisted against the wall, hooking his leg over Saïx's hip and grinding down at a new angle. Teeth sunk slowly into his shoulder as he was smashed into the wall, pain dancing behind his eyes and singing through his empty chest. He couldn't stop the sounds he was making now.

Make him feel alive again.

Saïx let go of his wrists, hefting him up, and Axel wrapped both long legs around the leather clad waist, held there, suspended, supported, all the places he was being touched and bitten and rubbed through his leathers overwhelming him.

"H-hang on," he stuttered. "I'm, a-ah—"

Saïx licked a wet stripe over the tendon in his shoulder, timed with a slow roll of his hips and Axel lost it, shuddering a little helplessly, thighs pulling in tight around Saïx's sides, lanky arms clinging to Saïx's shoulders.

Saïx stood motionless for a few seconds as Axel breathed heavily into his hair, then he pulled away a little, and Axel's legs dropped unsteadily back to the ground.

"That was intense," Axel grinned, face relaxed and open. He felt sticky and achy and shuddery and… that was close enough. "Hope you don't go rewarding everyone like this, Supervisor."

Saix said nothing, but a bead of sweat rolled from his hairline.

"Do you want me to—to take care of…?"

Axel moved closer, toying with the zipper on Saïx's coat, but Saïx brushed his fingers away, almost apathetically.

"No. You don't have to. Get some rest,

Saïx didn't like taking his coat off, Axel knew. Saïx didn't like coming in front of him, Axel knew.

It didn't stop the emptiness inside him expanding and expanding with every step Saïx took towards the door.


End file.
